


Sweet

by grosss (orphan_account)



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Bandom - Freeform, Belly Kink, Feeding Kink, I'm Sorry, Other, Stuffing, Sub Gerard Way, This is not everyone's cup of tea, get out while you still can, ooooh boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 14:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19297528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/grosss
Summary: Gerard overdoes it on green room snacks





	Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> *** NOTE: I am orphaning this because I am ashamed. I'm leaving it up because I know some people might want it up. Maybe I'll post it again under a new acct one day. You can still find me/dm me at https://archiveofourown.org/users/grosss
> 
>  
> 
> This isn't for everyone. If it's not your thing, ignore it. I also wrote this fairly quickly.
> 
> *This is a nsfw fetish fanfic that is meant for adult 18+ readers only, please respect that.*
> 
> a/n: One day I will pay for this in Hell

Gerard Way had never been normal; from his taste in movies and comics to his history of being a bit of a recluse, he was planted firmly in geek culture, always living on the fringe, latching onto horror and fantasy and any oddity he could consume. He had accepted this aspect of himself; it was neither here nor there, and he had been able to make a career of it twice. The same went for sex, however. He couldn’t help it, really. It was just in his nature. You name it, he had probably tried it, fascinated by the very concept of unnatural fetish. The internet boom when he was in college had only spurred him on; he finally had access to websites, information, chat rooms. When a partner of his had confessed some of their more unusual interests to him, he had simply laughed warmly, listening with rapt attention. In December of 2005, they were in Florida, playing a festival bill with several other bands. The group that had played before them left early, leaving an absurd amount of snacks behind.

Gerard didn’t want to know what their rider expenses must have been, but took advantage of the free food, snacking before and after sound check and retreating once more to the green room to get some rest before they had to go on. There were donuts, surprisingly fresh-tasting for sitting in the open air for several hours, and Gerard sat down, eating them as he read, trying to clear his head a little. Absorbed in his book, twenty minutes passed and he glanced down, shocked to see that he had already consumed half of the box. The six donuts and sandwich from earlier rested heavy in his stomach. He was already full, there was no doubt about that- his jeans felt vaguely tighter on his waist, and the mere notion that he’d already overdone it piqued his interest. He felt sated and happy, and he could abuse his body further; he could simply keep eating. His heart began to race as he weighed the possibilities. Two hours until showtime. The guys were gone, probably out for dinner. He was alone in a green room full of snacks and with zero inhibitions. Gerard got up, making sure to lock the door just in case, although he hadn’t thought of any excuses as to why the door would be locked, should anybody try and open it.  
He turned back, switching the radio on and grabbing his paperback from his backpack in the corner, surveying the table. There were plates of fruit, orange juice, crackers, and sandwiches. The six remaining donuts sat in their box, seemingly waiting for his fingers. There was a small portion of a sheet cake left, from a venue or for someone’s birthday, he couldn’t be sure. He grabbed another sandwich, sitting down and trying to concentrate on his book. If he took it slow, maybe, he would be alright. He didn’t want to take it slow. He wanted torture. 

Ignoring the slight throbbing in his groin he grabbed a fork, making his way through the fruit plate, nonchalantly sucking droplets of juice from his fingertips as he went. Fruit was good for you, right? Perhaps that made it okay. His mouth began to feel sticky as he went, fruit juices making his tongue feel fuzzy. He placed a hand on his stomach, so full that the button on his jeans was lost beneath it, painfully tight. He rubbed at the curve of his stomach with a quiet groan. 

“Jesus,” He breathed, pouring himself a tall glass of orange juice and steadily draining the glass, holding his aching stomach. Perhaps Frank would find him like this. Perhaps Ray or Bob or a crew member would notice, notice how he’d gorged himself, how awful he’d been. He shuddered at the thought, picking up a donut and starting on it. They weren’t Krispy Kremes, either- they were a mixed dozen, bigger than usual, nothing simple or easy to get down. One, two, three. He felt sick, and the thought of eating himself sick made his face flush. He sat back for a moment, running his fingers over the buttons of his shirt, noting how obscenely it clung to him. He had a propensity for wearing slightly baggier clothes, but just his luck, had been wearing something ever so slightly more form-fitting that day. It was disgusting, really. He should have been embarrassed, but all he felt was a sense of awe, giddy at what he’d done to himself. He nearly choked on the last donut, having to force it down, powdered sugar catching in his throat. He coughed, leaning forward and fumbling for the button of his jeans, at last shoving his hand inside.


End file.
